


a soft light, stirring

by persephonea



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Fingering, Fluff, Intimacy, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Transdroid Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 23:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17212880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephonea/pseuds/persephonea
Summary: “Hank,” he says and it sounds likeI love you, it sounds like the past seven months patiently blossoming into spring. He smiles and turns his head to press a kiss in the centre of his palm, lips lingering for a short sweet moment.“I want to show you just how easy it can be, Hank.” Connor cups Hank’s slowly filling cock through his sweatpants.“Just like this.” He bends his head to nuzzle at his crotch. Hank can swear the sight only could give him heart attack. For all Connor’s efforts to calm him down earlier, his heart is behaving frantically yet again.--Hank has a hard time coming to terms with how certain things in his life came to be and Connor decides to help him see it in a new light - both parties are equally affected.





	a soft light, stirring

Hank takes a deep breath as he regards himself in the mirror. He grips the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white from the amount of force used. Porcelain pressing cold and hard against soft flesh does nothing to calm the anxious flutter inside his ribcage.

He is too old for this. He is too old for this and yet - his heart is beating too fast and it feels like his head is spinning a little, the momentary rush making a mush out of his thoughts. He rolls his shoulders, squaring them and stealing himself, he stares harder at the image in front of him.

Blue eyes. Gray hair. Wrinkles. Large pores. Broken capillaries. Eyebags. A face too familiar, even though he spends little time looking at it. It is what it is. He starts to count the number of breaths passed between each time he blinks.

_One, exhale, two, exhale, three, exhale, blink._ His vision is getting hazy, eyes stinging as they try to gather up enough moisture to protect the cornea.

It is hard to say what set him off. It wasn’t anything in particular per se, more like a variety of things, all snowballing into a well-timed lapse in judgement.

Connor’s eyes cast down. A tilt of his lips that agreeably seeped into his whole body, making him light and happy, right in the middle of Hank’s kitchen. Harsh fluorescent light catching on the ends of his hair, making him look like something other. Still, he weirdly fitted into the space between the sink and the table, like it was complimenting him.

_One, exhale, two, exhale, blink._ Connor fitted into his kitchen in a way that was seamless, casual, like few things are these days around Hank. Somehow, he hadn’t seen it coming and the sudden lack of control had been the most hilarious jumpscare in the history.

\-- He had been sitting down, head bent and petting Sumo drooling eagerly between his knees. Connor had been leaning against the cabinets, not pretending not to be watching him, fingertips of one hand resting against the slim wrist where the pulse would be. Hank had looked up and the image hadn’t shattered. Connor had been simply standing there like he was somehow supposed to and the clock on the wall had continued counting quiet ticks like everything was set right in the world. Then Hank’s body received a zap of energy, freezing the moment and taking him out of it.

Now he’s cowering in his own bathroom, behind the closed door, like it could protect him from the thing that had already bit into his heart and held it in its teeth.

“Hank?” There is a gentle knock on the door. Right.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry but I can read your stress levels and they are,” a small pause like he is searching for an appropriate idiom instead of giving him the precise percentage, “through the roof.”

Hank takes one last look at himself. He drags a hand over his face and groans. He takes a step back and moves towards the door. When he reaches for the handle, his hand is shaking just a little.

Connor slips inside and closes the door behind him with a soft click. He takes Hank in, eyes searching for something in the worn out lines of his face, his LED spinning lazy blue. Hank can’t read him, which is unusual. He has gotten used to all those little ticks and tilts which Connor allows to make him vulnerably transparent. Now Connor keeps his expression meticulously neutral as he bypasses him to go sit on the edge of the bathtub.

The line of his shoulders is a bit on the rigid side, Hank decides.

He doesn’t say anything. Only regards Hank, nothing betraying that his fancy processors are surely in the middle of preconstructing a hundred of different ways this could go.

“You could say I had a fucking revelation. All heaven trumpets and angel choirs and shit.” Hank’s voice comes out gruff. He braces himself against the sink, hands coming up to fold over his chest.

“The second coming of Christ is not scheduled for another nineteen years.”

“Jesus, Connor.”

“Precisely.”

Connor takes out a miniature tile out of the composed mosaic that is his expression and cracks the tiniest smile. Hank’s hand comes to rub at the bridge of his nose. He lets out a tired sigh.

“I’m too old for this.”

Connor’s post-deviant systems must have betrayed him as the fingers resting calmly in his lap twitch. Hank knows how the android feels about that particular predicate. He quite expressively let him know on various occasions. _Your age is positively irrelevant in the equation of our relationship._

Connor’s next words are careful and not quite what Hank expected.

“I was led to believe it’s never too late to accept Christ as your Lord and Savior.”

Hank can’t help but snort in surprise and amusement at his determination to continue on with the gag. Some of the tension that had his body taut as a bowstring fades and gives way to all-too-familiar fondness that has his heart in a twist. He knows all this could seem unprompted to an impartial observer but he has been floundering about for as long as he could remember.

“Well this just might be the case.” He looks at the paint chipping away in the corner above the shower head. “What I mean is - it’s fucking funky, that’s what it is.” The paint is coming off in large flakes. They should repaint the whole house, actually. “I never expected to have this again, that it’d come so easy, and it’s just, eh.”

At _this_ , he gestures vaguely at the space between them, at Connor hanging patiently on his words, with warm eyes, dressed in Hank’s own DPD hoodie. “You, sitting on my goddamned bathtub like you belong there, like you’re meant to be here, in this house, with me.” He forces out. “Because I know for a fact, you weren’t meant to be here and I -”

The words - _I wasn’t meant to be here anymore either_ \- go unsaid, but their sombre, tactile presence clings to the tiled walls.

“But I am. You are. It _is_ that easy.”

Connor reaches out and pulls him closer. Hank doesn’t try to fight him, he knows Connor would outmatch him where physical strength is concerned if he wanted to.

“A few months ago, you told me you did not expect you would feel happiness again.” He pauses. “Are you happy, Hank?”

“Yes.” He breathes out. Maybe one day it would hurt less to admit it.

“Then the rest will sort itself out.”

Connor with his perfect skin, perfect smooth hair, a highly intelligent protype, sitting in his bathroom, trying to ease Hank’s anxiety by using the simplest human advice of all time. His life had really taken a weird turn for the better since asking Siri “what is love” on the floor of his dorm room at the academy.

Hank lets his hands find Connor’s shoulders.

“I’m trying, kid.”

“I know.” That hopeful, soothing tilt of his has taken to disrupting regular patterns of Hank’s heartbeat.

Connor opens his legs to draw Hank in. Oh. That does too.

Hank lets himself be hugged, Connor’s hands wrapping around him and gently squeezing until they settle on his hips. Connor’s pupillary response could be simulated, just as his breathing, and he is looking at Hank wide-eyed now, every synthetic muscle of his face relaxed to profess adoration.

Hank’s large hand cups the entirety of his cheek and Connor leans into it, rubbing the side of his face against Hank’s calluses.

Hank has always been self-conscious about his awkward bear paws, - thick fingers should stay clear of delicate things. Yet another thing to dislike about his aging body.

But Connor seems to enjoy them. If taking them in his mouth so often is any indication.

“Hank,” he says and it sounds like _I love you_ , it sounds like the past seven months patiently blossoming into spring. He smiles and turns his head to press a kiss in the centre of his palm, lips lingering for a short sweet moment.

The hands on Hank’s hips find his love handles, fingers contently burrowing themselves in, kneading the flesh possessively.

Hank’s hand goes to Connor’s soft hair as Connor’s fingers move up, slipping under the worn-out henley. Connor is always so pleasantly warm, it makes Hank seek out his touch more times than he cares to admit.

“Do you mind?” Connor maintains eye contact as he tugs at the hem of his shirt.

“Not if you don’t.”

Hank’s mind is starting to calm down, gentle waves breaking with ease on the shore of Connor’s bright eyes.

The hands lift the fabric, exposing the burly stomach and gray hair. Connor regards him like he is starving and Hank is a full course meal. It makes Hank shiver despite the warm breath fanning over him.

The kisses are carefully light at first. Loving pecks pressed to his scars, stretch marks. Random patterns to make Hank melt under that smart mouth, posture relaxing and tension withdrawing from his shoulders, leaning into the touch.

The tip of a pink tongue licks a wet hot stripe across his belly and he tightens the hold on Connor’s hair.

“Jesus.”

“Still just me.”

Connor starts leaving open mouthed kisses all over his bulk and when Hank looks down, his skin glistens with synthetic saliva. Connor’s mouth latches onto a particular spot, just to the left of his stab wound and sucks the tender flesh in. Hank feels the heat wash over him. He is sure he is starting to sweat.

Connor straightens up and the hand that isn’t gripping his hip comes up to cup one of his pecs. He takes his nipple between his forefinger and thumb and slightly tugs, rubbing it until it hardens. Hank’s nipples are not too sensitive, unfortunately, and Connor knows that, but it is nice even though it does not -

Connor squeezes his pec and lifts it up. He leans in and licks the sweat gathered in the crease.

“Fucking hell,” Hank gulps loudly. Connor’s LED is spinning rapid yellow. He is analyzing a sample of his sweat and if Hank doesn’t find that stupidly hot for whatever freaky reason.

The sweet wicked smile spreads across Connor’s lips and Hank can only watch, mesmerized, as he moves down, where the patch of his hair get wirier and thicker.

“I want to show you just how easy it can be, Hank.” Connor cups Hank’s slowly filling cock through his sweatpants.

“Just like this.” He bends his head to nuzzle at his crotch. Hank can swear the sight only could give him heart attack. For all Connor’s efforts to calm him down earlier, his heart is behaving frantically yet again.

After they shifted into something more, one his favorite things had quickly become watching Connor spread on their bed, squirming under Hank’s hands, desperate for it and begging to be touched. But there is something about his quiet determination at the moment, a single-minded focus of which the centre is Hank, that makes the blood in his veins sing just so.

Connor begins to mouth at the shape of his cock hidden under the fabric, leaving wet patches and making Hank’s belly tremble, his muscles rapidly contracting.

“So show me. Get it out for me, darling.” Hank says roughly.

The android mewls at the nickname. He quickly loosens the drawstring that holds his pants up and pulls them together with his boxers down to mid-thigh.

Hank’s cock hangs under his bulk, thick even when half hard. Immediately, Connor takes him in his hand and leans closer to lovingly rub the soft flesh on his cheek.

“It’s not for cuddling, you weirdo,” he snorts. In response Connor gives a tender kiss to the tip.

“I wonder.” He licks his lips and takes the entirety of him in his mouth. Hank’s knees almost give out.

Connor’s mouth envelops him in a wonderful heat, the tongue slightly warmer than it should be, making Hank inhale sharply at the sensation.

He scratches at Connor’s scalp and Connor’s hands find a purchase on his hips again. He isn’t moving though, only holding his hardening cock inside, warming it. Connor’s wide eyes are fixed on Hank’s face, pretty pink lips continuing to stretch around his widening girth.

Hank grabs his chin and presses the thumb against his bottom lip. He pushes, loosening his jaw a little and saliva dribbles on his fingers.

Hank’s mind is swaying, there is a certain lightheadedness that comes with the understanding that Connor is waiting for Hank’s instructions. His gaze on Hank is unwavering.

“Easy, you say. Yeah, you are. So. Easy.” He punctuates each word with subtly rocking his hips. Connor moans around him and the vibrations feel so good on his cock. He is fully hard.

Hank has to lean on Connor’s shoulder for support, which means his face gets pressed into Hank’s gut.

Connor makes another noise and grabs at Hank’s belly. Hank is ready to pull away when Connor runs his fingers through his hairy gut, groping and massaging the soft protruding bulk.

“Fuck. Okay, baby.” He tugs at Connor’s hair, arching his head up for a better angle.

Connor lets himself be maneuvered, eyes encouraging Hank’s movements. Hank cups his face, sliding his thumb over the cheekbone. Connor’s eyes flutter closed for a moment.

Hank starts to move. The tight wet heat feels great around him as he bucks his hips in shallow thrusts, watching his cock disappearing in Connor’s mouth. It is an image that will be forever burned into his memory.

He tries to go in slow. Getting past those lips so they catch the head of his cock, almost slipping out, then push in nice and steady. He is coated in Connor’s spit, gliding along his tongue.

“Fuck, feels good, Connor.”

With Connor, the wave would always build up soon in his belly and Hank can never control himself for long enough. His thrusts quickly become more fast paced.

“Tighter.” He grunts as Connor’s mouth becomes a steel trap, clamping around him and catching him in a snug pleasure loop.

Connor regards him with an urgency. Suddenly there are hands on Hank’s bare ass, pushing him deeper. Connor whimpers as Hank starts hitting the back of his throat, and sliding past it. The boy is letting out a muffled noise at each push.

“Good. You’re doing so good.”

Hank puts his back into it, rocking Connor back and forth with the force of his hips snapping. Connor letting Hank use him like this leaves a feverish taste in his mouth. He feels the droplets of sweat run down his temples. God, he is going to come soon, his cock down Connor’s throat. It would take only a few more thrusts. No, he wants Connor to -

He stills in his movements, shaking with the pent up energy and breathing hard. He pats Connor’s cheek and with a hiss slowly pulls out.

“Open up.” He presses the pad of his thumb against Connor’s tongue, holding it down.

Hank brings the swollen tip of his flushed red cock to his mouth and gently slaps it against his tongue. Connor’s expression is desperate and Hank is so close to the edge.

“Now make me come.”

It seems that is the only prompting Connor has been waiting for, he grabs his cock around the base with both hands and goes to town.

He swallows around it, moves up and down sloppily, spit glistening on his lips. The kid is going to eat him alive.

Hank can’t control the intensity of his moans anymore, he is getting louder and louder and that spurs Connor to try even harder. Connor hollows his cheeks and sucks enthusiastically. Hank is not going to last.

Connor tongues at the tip and swallows him down again and Hank is coming, wave after wave of numbing white flashing bliss. His knees buckle and he would go down if not for Connor’s steady grip on his hips. He lets it wash over him, taking away everything that is not anchored to Connor. Expanding and sharply centering on the sole focal point in a span of milliseconds. Over and over. One hell of a fucking orgasm.

He feels careful kittenish licks and chaste kisses on his oversensitive cock. As he opens his bleary eyes, he sees that Connor, having swallowed everything he could, is gently cleaning up the rest.

“Hey,” he smiles down at him and grabs the hands on his waist.

“Hey,” Connor smiles back. He presses one more sweet kiss to his spent cock and tugs him back into the sweatpants.

Hank could not stay up right any longer and even if his knees would wreak vengeance later he couldn't care less at the moment. He braces a hand on Connor’s thigh and kneels on the mat between his opened legs.

“Hank, you really shouldn’t. Your knees -”

“My knees can kick up a fuss all they want. Just, give me a moment.”

He breathes out heavy and puts his head on Connor’s thigh, face tilted up to observe him. Some days Hank can hardly stomach the adoration that seems to overflow those warm eyes. And sometimes he cannot stop his heart climbing its way out of his throat to push itself into Connor’s hands. _Here I am, yours._

He palms the inside of Connor’s thigh, not missing the shiver that runs down Connor’s body. Hank considers him for a second longer and comes to the decision that the time for teasing was way over. He presses his hand between his legs, large palm cupping Connor’s mound. Hank feels the thin fabric stick to his skin, soaked through.

“Jesus, so wet from sucking me off, huh.” Connor groans. And if that didn’t go straight to his dick, he feels it give a weak twitch at the thought.

“Up.” Connor lifts his butt from the tub so Hank can pull down the pants. He yelps when the sensors register cold porcelain in contact with bare skin. Some funky technology it is.

Hank doesn’t waste any time, letting his beard scratch the milky white thighs on his way up.

“Hank, please,” Connor’s fingers bury themselves in Hank’s hair for a change and he tugs at it to get him to move faster.

“Don’t worry, love, I know.” He stops short of touching him where Connor wants, just to take in the view. He runs his rough hands over supple flesh, come to frame Connor’s  swollen lips. Yeah, some technology.

“I know what you need.” Connor moans high pitched and needy as Hank spreads him open. He is worked up enough that simple press of Hank’s tongue to his damp insides makes him buck up violently, rubbing his sex on Hank’s beard, chasing the pressure.

Hank dives into the heat of Connor’s groin, laving his labia with his tongue before dipping in. He licks at the inside walls, tasting clear synthetic fluid, which so generously coats the lower half of his face now.

Connor starts rocking into his movements, subconscious little rolls of his hips to push him in deeper. He is trying to fuck himself on Hank’s tongue as if Hank isn’t going to give him anything he wanted.

“Hmm.” Hank moans encouragingly and sneaks one hand to the small of Connor’s back, supporting him.

“Oh, Hank, Hank, Hank.” His name and nothing else as Connor ruts against him, a frenzy seizing his body, dictating a sole objective. It is exciting, being on the receiving end of Connor’s affection, unabashed and unrestrained.

Hank moves his jaw in a circular motion, contrary to Connor’s thrusts, dragging the prickly hair of his beard all over his vulva. The friction makes Connor arch over him, bent lovely, thighs shaking, momentarily paralysed with the sensory overload.

“You’re almost there, baby, aren’t you,” he mumbles into him, lips pressed open mouthed to his swollen flesh, the low timbre of his voice sending electric pulses through Connor’s chassis.

Something in his chest clicks and Connor’s sobbing wail turns mechanical as he clamps Hank’s head between his thighs.

Trying to open them again would be to no avail, Connor is still stronger than him and it isn’t exactly unpleasant to be reminded Hank could not stand in the way of him going after what he wants.

Hank draws soothing circles on the small of his back, Connor unmoving, clenching hard around him, little tremors still running through his body. Hank licks into him slow and deep and pushes two of his fingers in to the last knuckle.

Connor screams and the tension seems to break. He melts into him, arms draped over his shoulders, head hanging down and panting somewhere next to Hank’s ear. Overheating, apparently.

Hank wiggles his fingers. Big and thick is good for something at least - he fits in there just so. Connor is so tight and hot around him, yet so soaked he could easily - he slips in the third.

“Easy, huh.” He mutters and clamps his mouth down on Connor’s clit.

He sucks at it, runs his tongue over it once, twice and Connor is coming. His body seizing, the skin rippling white in places, an avalanche set off.

Hank keeps sucking the sensitive bundle of nerve sensors, fingers kept warm inside Connor, muscles clenching around him.

He adores the way Connor’s body goes limp against him. Quiet whimpers at the overstimulation echo through the bathroom yet he still doesn’t move away, even seems to push back against his mouth.

“You might -” a whimper - “might want to stop or I’m going to short circuit.”

Hank gently runs his tongue over his clit one more time and pulls away. His fingers make a squelching sound as he removes them.

Before he can wipe them away on the mat, Connor grabs his hand and licks it clean. “Recycling.”

Hank blinks. Connor seems to be coming down and composing himself by the second, he straightens up and his breathing pattern is coming back to normal.

“Sure,” Hank sighs, tired and content. He closes his eyes and rests his head heavy on Connor’s thigh. He feels Connor’s hands carding through his hair, pushing it back, then running his fingers through his beard.

“You’re wet.”

Hank laughs, “ _You’re_ wet, honey.”

Connor leans in and kisses him, deep and sweet, licking into him with a firm gentleness, a tether to the core. He cups Hank’s cheek and rubs at his sweaty temple. He presses his mouth into it, tasting him, taking him in.

Hank hums and Connor pulls away, grinning widely down at him. His fingers are scratching his scalp, making Hank want to push against his hand like Sumo does.

“For the record, I would like to point out that the realization that this relationship has reached a domestic status raised your stress levels more than -”

Hank reaches out with his hand to put it over Connor’s astute mouth.

“How about you hold that thought off the record.”

Connor has his smile pressed to Hank’s hand, eyes crinkling and warm, a soul so palpable coming into focus behind them, it is hard to understand how he could have ever doubted that his android was alive.

“You know I meant what I said. I’m -” he clears his throat, “happy with you. I like me better when I’m with you.”

Looking at Connor’s face is suddenly like looking directly at the sun. He takes Hank’s hand off his mouth and puts a kiss on his knuckles. “I like me better when I’m with you, too.”

Hank smiles back, his body weightless, a feeling of deep contentment lifting him up and anchoring him down.

Hank knows he is not in a position to make any guarantees; he is carved into his ways that make him up -- and yet.

He has found a light stirring at the bottom of his chest and it is calming blue.

It gets easier every day.

**Author's Note:**

> that meme *obviously, i’m not gay* but where mundane domesticity scares hank to death  
> connor: *we have been in a romantic relationship for 6 months*
> 
> shoutout to my lovely beta [funkylittleandroid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jess9917/pseuds/funkylittleandroid)
> 
> there’s a hankcon friends to lovers [playlist](https://twitter.com/beethkay/status/1076594000365264897) i made that kind of goes with this fic
> 
> i’m on [twitter](https://twitter.com/beethkay) where i mostly hankcon  
> legend has it if you leave kudos or comments, this ao3 user will explode into tiny glitter sparkles that will literally shower you with love and affection


End file.
